it's the same ballpark
by sybilius
Summary: The detective team has a Tarantino Movie Night. Matt and Light argue about movies, Near has a creepy perceptiveness of everyone's kinks, and L just wants to watch Uma Thurman's feet. Later on, Light decides to take Near's advice about L's predisposition towards the feet...


**_Cross-posted from Ao3, quick trashfic I wrote a while back! Hope you enjoy copious Tarantino refs+foot fetishes :)_**

"Okay, _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_?" Matt grins from the leather couch and almost everyone groans, "What?"

"Contrary to your beliefs, popular belief is that you _can_ watch a movie too many times," L states without looking up from his laptop, taking a piece of cherry licorice, "What about _Das Lieben Der Anderen_?"

"Please don't suggest your arty German films," Matt throws a piece of caramel corn at the back of L's head.

"Alright then, _Blood Simple_?"

They had been bantering about Movie Night selections intermittently all the way through the close of the Alzatz case, including the confidential phone call to the FBI. Now, the detective team is sprawled about on smooth leather couches with a wide variety of sweets, minus Near, who was still tying up a few loose ends. _Or working on that Lego model._ Light smirks, _though he's not the only one still working._ Light shrugs off his blazer and pokes L lightly on the shoulder.

"Still a bit dark," Mello abandons holding up DVDs to cuddle into Matt's side on the couch, "besides, we watched _O Brother, Where art Thou_ last week."

"Yeah, but the Cohen Brothers rock," Matt wraps an arm around Mello.

L rolls his eyes and glances back at Light for help, who simple shrugs and offers the gummy worms, "I didn't really start watching films until now."

"Yeah, and you've never liked anything we've watched." Matt grumbles.

"That's not true, I liked _Soylent Green._ "

"Correction, you've never liked anything _good._ "

"I'm just not that into crime, espionage, and action. Too much like work."

Near shuffles into the room, carrying a box full of small, round, single-size Lego pieces of various colours.

"Oh good, Near, you're just in time for movie night," Matt gestures next to him on the couch.

"If we can ever decide what to watch," Light snarks good-naturedly from his position next to L on the couch.

"Well, why don't you suggest something, smartass," Mello gestures at the large stack of rejected DVDs on the coffee table.

"This isn't something I know much about, unless you want my sister's suggestion of Hideki Ryuga films."

"Pulp Fiction," everyone turns to look at Near, who has sat on the floor, leaning against Matt and Mello's legs.

"That's...actually a pretty good idea," Matt strokes a hand in Near's white hair. Near smiles.

"Of course it is. You like it because it has violence and snappy one-liners, Mello likes it because the characters are of interest, Light should watch it as an integral part of his film education, and L likes it because of Tarantino's attention to the beauty of feet."

"Sorry, what was that last?" Light asks as he tries to coax L away from the laptop.

Near raises an eyebrow, "You don't know? L has a bit of a foot fetish."

L coughs suddenly on a gummy worm, "Near!" he croaks.

"Tch, clearly you need to be taking advantage of this more, Light."

"You should probably take Near's advice, he's pretty creative in bed,"

"Matt!" Mello gives him a scandalized expression, "TMI!"

"Well, I'm not wrong, he's the one who figured out your costume ki-"

"Stop talking, both of you," L growls as Mello turns crimson, "Please put on the movie."

"Whatever you say, boss," Matt winks and L grimaces. The beginning credits roll, and Light reaches over to snatch the laptop from L, who acquiesces and snuggles into his ribcage. Light hesitates before reaching for L's bare feet to warm them up, as usual. _There's no way I'm letting Near get to me._

But there was no denying L had a bit of a...predisposition towards the feet. Light considers this as he presses circulation back into L's delicate heel. Most of the time Light gave him foot massages, but there was something more...intimate about the small attentions L gave to his feet.

" _Would you give a guy a foot massage?"_

 _"Fuck you."_

Matt gives Light a sidelong glance, and Light tosses popcorn at him. He catches it in his mouth with a jaunty wink. L sighs, "Children, all of you." which would have seemed mature had it not been mumbled through a mouthful of marshmallows.

Later in the film, Light steals a glance at L. Uma Thurman struts on camera, her heels shapely and elegant. L puts his finger to his lips, and _nibbles_ , not in the way he does during a case. The way he does when he's considering how best to take Light apart. _So perhaps Near does have something there._ Light files that information away for later use.

" _You heard Marsellus threw Tony Rocky Horror out of a four story window for giving me a foot massage?"_

 _"Mhm."_

 _"And you believed that?"_

 _"Well...it seemed reasonable."_

At this, L throws back his head and laughs, low and throaty, exposing the white column of his neck. Light wants to mark him right then and there, but Near is giving them a smug side-eye.

L's laptop makes a muffled sound, and he reaches over for it.

"Hey," Mello keeps his eyes on the screen, "no working during Movie Night, we agreed."

L shrugs, "Near is working."

Near gives L a very dirty look, but abandons his patterned stack of Lego nodes, "Considering possibilities, that's all."

Mello and Matt share a conspiratorial look before yanking Near by the armpits onto the couch between them. Light muffles a chuckle as L returns from the message to tangle a hand in his hair.

"We need eyes on the ground for the blackmail case." L strokes a hand at his neck.

"Oh?" Light winces visibly as Uma Thurman takes an adrenaline shot to the heart, squeezes L's hand tightly. L rubs his neck in soothing circles.

"So, would you like to visit the south of France with me?"

"If you two are planning a romantic vacation while we watch Tarantino, we might need to have A Serious Talk." Matt drawls lazily, Near's head in his lap.

"Just casework."

"Shut up and watch the movie then."

L shrugs and snaps the laptop shut, but raises an eyebrow at Light, "Cottage in Bordeaux?"

Light keeps his eyes on the movie, trying to play it off, "I'll go where you go." The picturesque mental image of white sand and pastoral architecture contrasts sharply with the disheveled figures on screen. L jabs him playfully in the ribs, but doesn't comment.

"This is my favourite bit," Matt points enthusiastically as a captain hunches next to a small boy.

 _"The way your daddy looked at it, this watch was your birthright. And he'd be damned if any slopeheads were gonna put their greasy hands on his boy's birthright. So he hid it the one place he knew he could hide somethin'. His ass."_

Light wrinkles his nose, "This?"

"Well not this bit, but really the end. It's pure mafia justice, get me?"

"Yeah." Mello has a kind of thousand-yard stare. _He would know from experience._ The title of the bit, _The Golden Watch_ , rolls onscreen.

"Why do we always watch crime films?" Light asks suddenly.

"Because we're obsessive genii who can't let up on work even when we relax." Near drawls without looking up.

"He's not wrong." L chews at a piece of licorice as Vincent is shot down. _Had it coming_ , Light thinks. _Jeez, Matt must be rubbing off on me._

"Nope, never am."

"N."

"L."

"Shut up and watch, both of you."

"Noted, Q."

Gunshots on screen. The mad, slightly absurdist pace of the film is just peculiar enough so that Light can't quite see the next move, but not so outlandish it feels fake. _I guess I can see why this is Matt's favorite scene._ The boxer runs in to the seedy video store.

 _"Can I help you wit' something?"_

 _"Shut up!"_

 _"Now you just wait one goddamn minute.."_

Light almost cracks a smile at the ensuing fight. When the boxer wakes up, he has to raise an eyebrow, "Sex dungeon? Seriously?"

"Sex dungeon." Matt nods enthusiastically, then looks at Mello, "We need one of those."

"Shut up," Mello blushes even redder than before. Near nods enthusiastically. L shudders, and puts his head on Light's shoulder.

 _"I mean, what now, between me and you?"_

 _"Oh that what now. Well, let me tell you what now between me an' you. There is no me an' you. Not anymore."_

 _"So we're cool?"_

 _"Yeah man, we're cool."_

"Perfect line." Matt half-whispers, and Light has to agree. The rest of the film washes over, tying itself end-to end, and Light, surprisingly, doesn't quite want it to be finished. Credits roll.

"Well, opinions?" Mello glances back and forth. Near nods dismissively, Matt does a fist pump, L tries and fails, to look disinterested, and Light smiles a little.

"It was well-structured, though the looping was obvious. Definitely an interesting take on American crime- rotten from start to finish. I liked it."

"Sorry, you liked a film? About criminals, yet? Historical day for K," Matt crows, and offers him a fist to bump. He rolls his eyes, but meets him in the middle.

"So, _Kill Bill_ next week?" L says a little too quickly.

Light smiles, "Let's do it."

* * *

 _A case in Bordeaux,_ L muses, _it's been years._ The case in question (two days old and already clear that it was of interest, and required fieldwork), is reasonably engrossing. L rates it a three, three and a half considering Light was able to join him for the fieldwork (with bonus points for the most excellent French patiseree that was discovered in town). He is perched on the beachfront, sketching out avenues of vulnerability for the blackmail that was undoubtedly taking place at Mothamite Bank. Tourists glance at him curiously, but the locals take no notice (stylish and practiced disinterest). Light sits down next to him.

"Brought you dinner," Light produces two croissants, one chocolate, one cheese. L smiles and nibbles at the chocolate.

Light's eyes flicker over the diagram, "you're missing the VP's daughter's husband."

To date, Light and Near were the only ones who could interpret his knotted diagrams, "So I am," he sketches a few dotted lines here and there without looking at Light (though grateful and chastened in equal measure for his comment).

"I think I'm going to wade for a moment."

"Mhm," he sketches another line, lost in the connections, "what do you think about the Finance Minister?"

Light says nothing (likely because it is a pair of leather shoes next to him, rather than Light). Light is walking, carefully, slowly to the water's edge. His khakis are rolled up to the ankles. His lightly tanned heels dig into the white sand, leaving phantom prints. L wants to press his toes in the imprints (soak up their beauty). _Oh. I see._

L stands, walks through his diagram in the sand without a second thought. The lapping water is just starting to kiss at Light's toes (L would glare jealously, except that the water caused them to glisten slightly).

"It's a beautiful evening, isn't it?"

It is. The sun has just begun setting in a way that L would consider objectively romantic, but with Light casting shadows among it, it is transcendent. Light flexes his toes, slowly into the surf (perfect wings, bending the earth as they pass over). L brushes a finger over Light's cheekbone and pulls him in for a thorough kiss.

"You're trying to distract me," L breathes.

"Not just trying," Light smirks, "Succeeding."

"Touche," L smiles his most seductive. Light nudges his bare foot to L's ankle, and he feels a shock ripple through him (from sunset to electric moon).

"So how about we go inside for the night, detective," Light whispers, low and seductive, and suddenly L has such _plans_ for him.

"You said you wanted to wade, didn't you?" L purrs in his ear, "Come inside in fifteen minutes. Leave your shoes off."

L feels the shiver start along Light's spine and wrack through him (temptation, sweet like strawberries) so he nibbles at Light's earlobe, to emphasize that the wait will be worth it. Light smiles his Kira-smile, slow and dangerous, and L has to fight to pull away.

He crosses the beach in quick strides to the cottage that Wammy rented for the weekend. It's a wood-and-stone beach house, all fairytale and sweet, exactly what you would expect from the honeymooning pair they are posing as (and they are not nearly as bad at the act as L would like to believe).

Their bedroom in particular is the reason L favored the place. It's tucked in a loft the floor above the main room, the walls all dark teak-wood with Greco-classical accents. Above the wall before the bed is a stained glass window in art Nouveau style, just beginning to cast glowing red and orange patterns over the duvet cover.

L works fast, staging the bedroom with dim light, a basin, the glow of candles. Sex with Light, (as he knows quite intimately) is all about the scene, the story, and the drama. Sometimes it's a challenge to keep him interested (but of course, L always loved a challenge). He strips down to the milky white of his skin, wraps a linen cloth around his waist. L hasn't played into the subservient type for a while now since he knows Light enjoys their grappling (dialogue of tempest forces), and moreover, he enjoys it too.

And yet, this evening he lays his hand over the wood of the bedpost posing nervous tension (sweet and eager) until his partner arrives. He hears the door open, close gently. Soft feet padding up the stairs to the bedroom. The sound makes him shiver.

Though he would never admit it, Near was right almost as often as he was. Perhaps even more so.

Light shadows over the top of the stairs, the contrast of his business suit against his bare feet starkly intimate. His lips part in surprise (eyes darkly soft), as L steps towards him, not breaking eye contact.

"Light-kun," he whispers (in a suitably low voice that makes Light's pupils dilate imperceptibly), "Please sit."

Light obeys, letting L take his fingertips gently to the edge of the bed. He gives Light a questioning glance before removing Light's cotton shirt (one button at a time). Light twitches just slightly into his touch, and L gives him a half-innocent glance (with just a trace of challenge). That causes him to straighten, his features appropriately imperious.

L takes his feet ever so softly, one by one into the basin. The water is warm, scented with pomegranate soap. L takes his time washing the delicate bone of the toes, tracking his thumb along the instep, kissing at the vein along his ankle (salt-water taste, but he holds himself back from licking top to bottom).

The sight is so strangely erotic that L is already growing hard (roughly seventy-five percent), and he smiles at the quickening pulse along Light's ankle.

When he looks up, Light has a half-enthralled, half-haunted look in his eyes. L suddenly realizes the memory reflected there, and gives Light's knee a quick squeeze. Light kisses him on the forehead, and L steals a kiss before he sits up, nibbling at the corner of his lip (eliciting a sharp intake of air). Before Light can catch his breath, he licks a strip down the base of his instep, sucking hard at the toes (the resulting gasp is both desperate and surprised, L notes with a touch of satisfaction).

His own heartbeat picks up as he snakes his arm up Light's pants, keeping his teeth gentle on the edge of the heel. He reaches for the lip of the zipper (all temptation-eyes), and Light stands, demanding to be touched. L strips him (eager, but not too eager), and pushes him back on to the bed to admire his long, muscled legs that taper off into the elegant bonework of his feet. Before he can reach a hand for them, Light straddles them onto his shoulder blades and pull him close.

Those gorgeous feet crawl down his spine, shrug the cloth off of him, then lock around his shoulders, tugging him between Light's thighs. Light reaches a hand to tilt L's chin upwards (candlelight carving out his cheekbones). _Worship me._ Light demands with the arch of his neck, and L obeys. Obeys with his lips and tongue and fingertips.

Light gasps as L mouths down his cock, toes digging into L's back. The spark of pain is exquisite, and he chokes his lips harder, deeper around his lover. L is aching, but he's not about to beg, not today. Light seems to sense this, and places a foot to his chest, pushing him away in a tangle of limbs. L grabs onto foot before he falls, crawling one hand up his leg.

"Let me pray at your altar, Kira-kun." L whispers it with a touch of sarcasm (the closest to begging he'll ever manage), but it's enough. Light grins slowly and pulls him on to the bed, flipping him over to his back. He traces L's ribcage with his fingertips

"Be my sacrifice."

There's something about the way he whispers it that catches the breath in L's throat, makes him hesitate, "Always, Kira."

It's all theatre, of course, with Light, perfect lies and L is his first, best audience, because he can see where the truth starts. This time, as Light flips him over and works two fingers into him, he knows the gentleness isn't a lie (not today). Light gathers him up onto his lap, marks him at the neck, at the earlobe.

"L Lawliet." he always whispers the name like the secret it is. L only has a moment to parse the honesty at his ear (desperate and demanding in turn) before Light guides inside him and it _burns_ , but the way hands clutch at his chest is so beautiful he can't bring himself to mind.

The number of times intimacy has been about promise for them can be counted on the fingers of one hand. It's almost always been infrequent, frantic transmutation of their usual sparring of wits into something physical. But tonight (and it's gone beyond the staged biblical drama into something tangible), L tastes the _motion_ of their life together in every rolling thrust along Light's legs (always sprinting from one conclusion to the next). Stolen moments, moments of beauty between the two of them are rare.

He folds overtop of Light's outstretched legs in a perfect expression of humility. When his tongue licks over the instep of Light's foot, those elegant hips stutter behind him, Light biting hard into his shoulder. The added sensation, and the swipe of Light's thumb sends him crashing over the edge with him.

They're a tangle of sweat and limbs for a few breaths after. L would almost laughs at the beauty of it, if his heart wasn't beating to bursting. They lie there for a moment, Light tracing out the shape of L's spine. L slides down and kisses at his toes, and Light does laugh then, sounding young and immortal.

"You're lucky I'm not ticklish."

"I suppose I am," L hums gently, "To his credit, Near is very perceptive."

"Yes, but if you mention his name post-sex again, I'm walking out of here."

"Touche," L grimaces, but strokes his arm, "You know, I didn't expect you to enjoy that as much as I did."

"What can I say, Rue. You always manage to keep things interesting."


End file.
